The movie played softly in the background, its flickering light casting shifting shadows across the room. I wasn't really watching it anymore, though. I was too aware of the way Bryan's arm was draped around me, the slow, lazy circles his fingers were tracing along my hip.

It had been a long day—packing my things, knowing I'd have to move back into my dorm tomorrow, realizing that winter break was officially over. Christmas and New Year's had flown by, every moment spent in this house making it feel more like home than I ever expected.

And now, lying here in Bryan's bed, warm under his covers, wrapped up in him, I didn't want to think about leaving.

Bryan shifted slightly, his hand slipping under the hem of my shirt, his fingertips grazing bare skin.

"Still thinking about tomorrow?" His voice was low, deep, the kind of voice that sent shivers down my spine even when he wasn't trying.

I sighed, pressing my face against his shoulder. "Yeah."

His fingers slid a little higher, skimming up my side. Teasing.

"Maybe you should stop thinking," he murmured, his lips brushing against my hair.

I swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of every point of contact between us—the way his body was pressed against mine, the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his hand as it traveled a little higher.

My breath hitched.

Bryan noticed.

His fingers curled, gripping my waist just enough to make my stomach tighten.

"You're tense," he said, his smirk evident in his tone.

I let out a shaky breath, tilting my head back to look at him. His eyes were dark in the dim light, focused completely on me. The teasing edge to his expression was there, but underneath it was something heavier, something hungrier.

I licked my lips. "Maybe you're distracting me."

His smirk deepened. "That's the point, princesa."

And then, he kissed me.

Slow at first, like he was giving me a chance to pull away—but I didn't. I leaned into him, my fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.

The second I kissed him back, he took control.

His hand slid up my back, fingers pressing into my skin, pulling me flush against him. His lips moved against mine, slow and deep, like he wanted to consume me.

I let out a soft sound against his mouth, and that was all it took.

Bryan rolled us over in one smooth movement, his weight pressing me down into the mattress. He kissed me harder now, his tongue sliding against mine, his hand gripping my thigh and pulling it up around his waist.

The heat between us ignited, burned.

His lips moved from my mouth to my jaw, then down to my throat, kissing, sucking, nipping. I gasped, arching into him as his teeth grazed over my pulse.

"Bryan," I breathed, my hands sliding under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin, the muscles tensing under my touch.

His breath hitched, just slightly.

Then, his hand slid lower. Over my hip, my thigh—

Teasing.

Testing.

Waiting to see how far I'd let him go.

And God, I didn't want him to stop.

I tugged his shirt up, urging him to take it off. He chuckled against my skin, but he listened, sitting up just long enough to pull it over his head before his lips were back on mine.

The heat, the tension, the hunger—it only intensified.

His hand slid beneath my shirt, fingers trailing up my stomach, leaving fire in their wake. He didn't stop—he kept going, higher, pushing fabric out of the way, teasing the underside of my breast.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my fingers digging into his back.

He grinned against my skin, his lips moving lower, kissing down my neck, my collarbone. When he reached the edge of my top, he nipped at it before pulling it up over my head.

The moment my bare skin met the cool air, his eyes darkened.

"Fuck," he muttered, his fingers tracing the curve of my waist, the soft swell of my chest. His hands were big, warm, firm—and when he finally palmed my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers, I couldn't stop the soft moan that escaped me.

Bryan chuckled, leaning down to replace his fingers with his mouth. His tongue was hot, wet, teasing, flicking over the sensitive bud before sucking it into his mouth.

I arched beneath him, my fingers tangling in his hair. "Bryan—"

He hummed, vibrations shooting straight through me, making my thighs squeeze around his waist. His hands slid down, gripping my hips, holding me still.

"You make the prettiest sounds," he murmured against my skin. "I want to hear more."

Bryan's hand dipped lower, fingers skimming dangerously close to where I ached for more.

But he didn't rush.

He wanted me on edge first, wanted to hear every shaky breath, every little gasp that escaped my lips.

His fingers trailed along my inner thigh, the barest of touches, making my skin prickle with anticipation. My thighs clenched together instinctively, but he chuckled against my mouth, gripping my knee and spreading me open again.

"Tranquila" he murmured, his voice deep and teasing. "I want to take my time with you."

I swallowed hard, my stomach tightening at the way his words rolled off his tongue, smooth, unhurried.

His fingers finally dipped lower, brushing over the soaked fabric of my panties. His breath hitched against my lips.

"Fuck," he muttered, his fingers pressing against the damp fabric. "Estás tan mojada para mí."

I shivered, not needing a translation to understand what he meant.

Then, without warning, he slid my panties aside and dragged his fingers along my folds, teasing me, spreading the slickness.

I let out a choked moan, my head falling back against the pillows.

Bryan took that as an invitation, his mouth moving down my jaw, my neck, sucking, biting, leaving trails of heat wherever he touched. His fingers found my clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles that had my legs trembling.

I clenched the sheets, my breath coming out in short, desperate gasps. "Bryan—"

His smirk was lazy, dangerous. "Dime, bebé," he murmured, voice low and rough.

My body arched into his touch, my hips rolling into his hand. I couldn't form words, couldn't do anything except feel.

His fingers dipped lower, teasing my entrance, but still, he didn't push inside. Not yet.

"You want more?" he whispered, his lips brushing my collarbone.

I nodded frantically, too far gone to feel embarrassed.

But Bryan wasn't satisfied with that.

His fingers stilled.

My eyes snapped open in frustration, meeting his dark gaze.

"Use your words, my love," he murmured, his breath warm against my skin.

I swallowed hard, my body thrumming with need.

"Please," I whispered.

His smirk widened. "Please what?"

I let out a frustrated whimper, my hands gripping his shoulders. "Bryan, please—"

He kissed me again, but this time, it was deeper, dirtier.

Then, he slid a finger inside me.

I gasped sharply, my nails digging into his arms. The stretch, the heat—it was intense, overwhelming.

"That's it, amor," Bryan muttered against my lips, his finger curling inside me, finding the perfect spot.

I clenched around him, my body reacting on its own.

He groaned, his forehead dropping against my shoulder. "Fuck."

I couldn't breathe, couldn't think—not when he was moving inside me like that, slow and deep, his thumb still circling my clit.

Then, without warning, he added a second finger.

A shaky moan tore from my throat, my hips rocking up into his touch.

Bryan's breath came out ragged, his mouth hot against my skin.

"You take me so well," he murmured, his voice rough, like he was barely holding himself together.

The way he was talking, the way he was watching me fall apart beneath him—it made me burn from the inside out.

He picked up the pace, his fingers thrusting deeper, faster, his thumb rubbing tight, precise circles over my clit.

I felt the coil tightening in my stomach, the pressure building, pushing me closer to the edge.

"Tell me when you're about to come," he ordered, his voice deep, demanding.

I tried to nod, tried to do anything except fall apart too soon.

But I was already so close.

"Bryan," I gasped, clutching at him desperately. "I'm gonna—"

I whimpered, my body trembling beneath him.

The pleasure snapped, tearing through me.

My orgasm hit me hard, making me cry out as my body arched, tightening around his fingers. The heat, the waves of pleasure—it was too much, too intense, and yet I didn't want it to stop.

Bryan groaned as he felt me come around him, his breath ragged, his lips brushing against my jaw.

"That's i," he murmured.

He didn't stop right away. He worked me through it, drawing it out, his movements slow, precise, making me shake beneath him.

I was breathless, boneless, completely undone.

When he finally slowed his fingers and pulled out, I whimpered at the loss.

Bryan's dark gaze met mine, his pupils blown wide, his jaw tight.

My body was still trembling, my skin hot and flushed, the aftershocks of my orgasm leaving me breathless. My muscles felt weak, boneless, and yet, deep in my core, there was still a lingering ache—a need that hadn't been fully satisfied.

Bryan was still hovering over me, his lips curved into a smirk, watching me with pure, smug satisfaction as his fingers slipped out of me, glistening with the evidence of what he had just done.

I barely had time to catch my breath before he lifted his hand, bringing his fingers up to my lips.

"Open," he murmured, his voice low, coaxing, and full of amusement.

My breath caught. My thighs squeezed together, my face burning from the wicked look in his eyes.

I hesitated.

Bryan's smirk deepened. "Come on, Amber. Be a good girl for me."

The way he said it—the way his voice dropped just slightly, rough with approval and teasing—it made something inside me snap.

I parted my lips, and without hesitation, he slid his fingers into my mouth.

I gasped at the sensation, at the way his fingertips pressed against my tongue, the faint taste of myself lingering on them. It was filthy. It was intoxicating. It was Bryan.

His eyes darkened, full of heat and satisfaction, watching me as I wrapped my lips around his fingers, sucking gently.

"Fuck," he muttered, his jaw clenching.

He pushed them a little deeper, watching intently, his breathing uneven.

"You look so fucking good like this," he murmured, his free hand smoothing down my thigh, gripping my skin possessively. "You like this, don't you?"

I whimpered around his fingers, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment—because I did. God, I did.

Bryan groaned, pulling his fingers from my mouth, and before I could react, his lips were back on mine, kissing me deep and slow. His tongue slid against mine, tasting, claiming, owning.

Then, I felt him.

His cock, hot and heavy, pressing against my still-sensitive core, rubbing slow, teasing strokes along my soaked folds.

I moaned into his mouth, my nails digging into his back.

"Bryan," I gasped, arching into him, desperate for more, for him, for anything.

He chuckled darkly, dragging his cock against me again, coating himself in my wetness but never pushing in.

"So needy," he murmured, his breath warm against my lips. "You want me that bad, baby?"

I let out a frustrated whimper, trying to rock my hips up, but his hands pinned me down.

Bryan groaned, his control snapping.

Then, with aching slowness, he pushed in.

The stretch was intense, burning, overwhelming but not in a bad way. It was too much and just enough, all at once.

Bryan let out a harsh, guttural moan, his forehead dropping to my shoulder. "Fuck, Amber," he groaned. "Tan apretada"

I gasped, my fingers clawing at his back, my body struggling to adjust around him. He was big—thick, hard, deep.

Bryan stilled, his hands gripping my waist, his breathing uneven. "Breathe, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing against my jaw.

I took a shaky breath, forcing my body to relax. And when I did, I realized how good it felt—the way he filled me, stretched me, claimed me.

Bryan groaned as I finally unclenched, his cock sinking deeper, fully seating himself inside me.

"Jesus," he muttered, his jaw clenching as he fought for control. "You feel so fucking good."

I whimpered, my body fully wrapped around him now, completely his.

He kissed me then, soft and slow, contrasting the raw intensity between us.

Then, he moved.

A slow, deep thrust.

I gasped, clutching at his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin.

He did it again. Then again.

I whimpered, my body clenching around him involuntarily.

He groaned low in his throat, his fingers digging into my waist as he fought for control.

We were joined now—completely, entirely.

And it wasn't enough.

I tilted my hips up, needing more, needing him to move.

Bryan noticed immediately, and instead of giving me what I wanted, he stilled.

I let out a frustrated whimper, my body desperate for friction, for anything.

His deep chuckle sent heat curling in my stomach. "So impatient, baby."

I whined, clenching around him just to make him react.

He sucked in a sharp breath, his grip on me tightening.

"You're fucking dangerous," he muttered. "But if you want to move so bad—"

I barely had time to process his words before Bryan was shifting, flipping us effortlessly, so I was suddenly straddling him.

My eyes widened, my hands flying to his chest for balance.

Bryan smirked up at me, his dark, hooded gaze running over every inch of me.

"Your turn, Ballerina," he murmured, his hands settling on my hips.

I swallowed hard, suddenly hyperaware of how exposed I was, how much control I now had.

"Bryan—"

"Take what you need," he said, his fingers flexing against my skin, encouraging me.

I hesitated.

Bryan saw it. He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I've got you."

The reassurance settled something deep inside me, and slowly, hesitantly, I moved.

I lifted my hips, then sank back down, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure through me.

Bryan groaned, his head dropping back against the pillows.

"Fuck, baby. Just like that."

Encouraged, I did it again, rolling my hips this time, finding the rhythm that made my breath hitch, that made him curse softly beneath me.

His hands tightened on my waist, guiding me, letting me set the pace.

And for a moment, I felt powerful.

I felt desired, in control, unafraid.

Bryan's hands roamed, trailing up my stomach, cupping my breasts, rolling my nipples between his fingers until I gasped, arching into his touch.

Then, his hands slid lower, gripping my ass.

"You look so fucking beautiful like this," he muttered, his voice strained, like he was holding back. "But, Amber?"

I barely had time to react before he suddenly sat up, wrapping an arm around my waist and flipping me back onto the mattress.

My breath hitched, a startled gasp escaping me.

Bryan hovered over me now, smirking down like he had just won a game I didn't know I was playing.

"Nice try," he murmured, his lips brushing over mine. "But I think you like it better when I'm in control."

I whimpered, my fingers clutching at his back, my body already desperate for more.

He teased me first, rolling his hips slowly, deeply, making me feel every inch of him.

"You ready for me?" he whispered, his lips tracing over my jaw, down my throat.

I was beyond ready.

And when Bryan finally started moving again, hard and deep and consuming, I realized—there was no coming back from this.

He had me. Completely.

Bryan's rhythm changed now—faster, rougher, deeper, like his control had finally snapped, like he had been holding back for too long and now there was no stopping him.

My body rocked with his, every deep thrust sending waves of pleasure curling through me, twisting my stomach tight with heat.

I was dizzy, overwhelmed, drowning in him.

And I didn't care.

I wanted to drown.

I wanted more.

Bryan's grip tightened on my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh as he pinned me down beneath him, forcing me to take every inch of him.

"You feel that, baby?" he groaned, his voice thick and ragged. "How deep I am?"

I let out a shaky moan, my nails dragging down his back, my head tilting back against the pillow.

"Mhm—"

Bryan growled low in his throat, his lips grazing my ear, his breath hot and uneven.

"You're taking me so well," he murmured, his voice drenched in hunger. "Like you were made for me."

I whimpered, my entire body tightening, and Bryan must have felt it because his pace shifted again—

Faster. Harder. Deeper.

He was chasing something now, something neither of us could hold back anymore.

His mouth found mine again, his kiss rough and his tongue sliding against mine as his thrusts grew more desperate, more demanding.

"Look at you, amor," he muttered, his lips dragging down my throat, his teeth grazing my sensitive skin, making me arch into him.

His hand slid between us, his fingers finding my clit, rubbing tight, urgent circles.

I was so close.

It was too much and not enough, all at once.

My body clenched around him, my breath hitching, my fingers clutching onto him like he was the only thing keeping me grounded.

"I—Bryan—"

He smirked against my neck, his pace never faltering.

"You gonna come all over my cock, baby?"

I gasped, embarrassment and pleasure colliding violently inside me.

Bryan groaned, his hand tightening on my waist, his voice dark and desperate.

"Do it" he muttered, his lips brushing against my ear, his fingers moving faster. "Come for me."

And then, I shattered.

The pleasure hit me like a tidal wave, sharp and hot and all-consuming, tearing through every inch of me, making my entire body tighten around him.

I cried out his name, my vision blurring, my back arching off the bed as my orgasm ripped through me, wave after wave after wave.

Bryan let out a wrecked groan, feeling me clamp down around him, his rhythm faltering, his muscles tightening.

His breath was ragged, desperate, his grip on me like a vice.

Then, with one last, deep, shuddering thrust, he let go.

He groaned low and rough, his forehead pressing against mine as he came, his body shaking against me, his hips twitching as he spilled deep inside me.

We stayed like that—entangled, breathless, ruined.

The only sound in the room was our uneven breathing, our racing hearts.

After a long moment, Bryan finally lifted his head, his eyes heavy-lidded, his expression dazed.

Then, a lazy, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips.

"You okay, mi cielo?" he murmured, his voice still thick with pleasure.

I swallowed, my face still flushed, my body completely spent.

"Yeah," I whispered, blinking up at him, breathless.

Bryan's smirk softened, his hand tracing lazy circles on my waist as he watched me.

Then, he leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to my lips.

"Good," he murmured.

And just like that, he pulled me against him, holding me close, our bodies still tangled together.

I melted into his warmth, into him.

Because now, there was no more pretending.

No more denying.

Bryan Munzo was mine.

And I was his.